


Cat got your tongue?

by Snorp_Lord



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dehumanization, This is a fun one laddies, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21793744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snorp_Lord/pseuds/Snorp_Lord
Summary: 'Whatever part of him that had hoped to resist was long since dead, beaten and coaxed into submission like the pet himself. That was all he was now. A pet. He had the collar to prove it, and suspected that the treatment would only become more dehumanizing as time passed.'When all is said and done, someone has to win the battle, and someone must face the consequences.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Cat got your tongue?

Gentle fingers combed through the smaller’s hair as he whimpered. “Shush, shush,  _ seod,  _ settle down...You seem so tense. It’s alright. You’re safe with me.”

_ You left me. _

_ You promised to take off the collar today. _

_ You said it would only take a week. _

So many things he wanted to say. But none of them escaped his throat. He could feel himself purring instead. Relaxing into his captor. Whatever part of him that had hoped to resist was long since dead, beaten and coaxed into submission like the pet himself. That was all he was now. A pet. He had the collar to prove it, and suspected that the treatment would only become more dehumanizing as time passed. How long until he was being fed with dog food or being kept in a cage? For all his hesitance when it came to rewards, the other was quick to punish him, to make him feel more hopeless and alone.

“I wanna go…” Eyes burned into him. Of course. Good pets don’t talk. Especially not to ask for things. It wasn’t his place to ask for things. He’d be given whatever  Master his captor was willing to give. He would lose whatever was not to be his. Like the time he’d kept his knife after eating. It wasn’t his to begin with, so he shouldn’t have it. Besides, it was sharp. If Anti had gotten hurt, that would be no good, so he had to lose the knife. 

“Oh no, no,  _ mo stór,  _ because then you’d get yourself into trouble, wouldn’t you? You can’t keep away, can you? Each and every one needs to be protected from you. But we don’t want to lose you. Your brothers don’t want that, not even after everything. They love us both, even while they’re pulled apart in the middle of our tug-of-war, even when they’re strung up like puppets or yanked through time over and over…” The hand in his hair was less gentle for a moment, pulling at his bright green curls, only loosening when he squeaked in protest. “All of them. They love us. They fear us and love us at the same time. Because even Jackie knows we’re stronger than the rest of them. We were made that way. Made as the villain and the hero. The magician and the glitch.”

Somehow, his captor looked strangely sad about that. Maybe he really was. Before Sean had known what to do with him, Anti was allowed to spend time with the rest of them. After all, the only thing he’d done by then was pop into Halloween videos and spook the viewers. Only after Say Goodbye had the glitch become something to fear, the villain of the story. All of them began to hate him. 

So then why was Marvin looking at him so sadly?

Despite all the horrific things Marvin did once the doors were closed, not once did he look at Anti as he used to. Never had the fear returned to his eyes. All it had taken was that one working spell. Even back then Anti’s heart dropped when he felt blood running down his face. He’d  _ known _ in that moment. Known that Anti was mortal, that all the pain could be repaid, and by God had he tested the theory. Having a physical form came with its disadvantages, it seemed.

“ _ Trófaí,  _ don’t look so sad. I won’t hurt you, not when you’ve been so good for me lately. You’ve been good, haven’t you? I don’t think you even snapped lately. Good boy,  _ madra maith,  _ so lovely. We can take you to see the others sometime? Would that make you happy?” 

Deep down, they both knew that was never going to happen. The magician would never willingly reveal what he’d done; the walls were soundproofed for a reason. Anti himself wouldn’t know what to do if he was found. How long had it been since someone had spoken to him like a person? The only face he’d seen in what felt like years was Marvin’s. While they all wore some version of Sean’s visage, it varied slightly between each of them. What he wouldn’t give to see Henrik’s glasses or Jameson’s mustache. Of course, none of them would want to see him, and he respected that. Especially those two. They had suffered enough at his hand- 

“Pet.” Anti snapped to attention. That was the name Marvin loathed to use since Anti had calmed down enough to let himself rest in the magician’s lap. Back when he fought, Marvin had only ever called him pet, never the whispered Irish names that brought him at least _some_ twisted kind of comfort. Back when he’d rubbed his wrists raw on chains only for them to sear deeper into his skin. “Your mind was wandering. Do you want to see them or not, pet?”

He shook his head and whined softly. Don’t talk. That would make him mad. Good pets are quiet. After how long it had taken him to learn to hold his tongue, it wouldn’t be any good to go back on that. He didn’t want Marvin to hurt him anymore. He was a good pet. He was so good. He didn’t even damage his bonds anymore, didn’t rip at his collar or tear the leather straps along his arms. Anti shook his head again at Marvin’s uncertain look.

“Well, that’s fine. Whatever you want,  _ piscín. _ ” Marvin gave him a longing gaze, like he wanted to say more. But then there was a light that neither of them expected, sharp and bright against the soft artificial glow of Marvin’s various lamps and crystals. Pure white instead of their usual calming blue lights. The blue was meant to soothe Anti’s violent temper. To calm him as Marvin reshaped his mind. This light wasn’t meant for Anti.

“Oh my God.”

Just seeing those slight glitches had at first set off a visceral fear in Henrik. Nine months spent as Anti’s prisoner, and the sight of his captor had always made him flinch, even if the other had never actually tormented him. But this version wasn’t the same erratic glitch who’d paced in front of his cell barely keeping his form in one piece. In fact, if those acid green eyes hadn’t squinted in the new light from the hallway, he’d assume Anti was asleep. Or dead. Maybe of starvation. Even if he didn’t really need to eat, surely his ribs shouldn’t be pressing into the skin like that. Surely his eyes shouldn’t be so dull, even if it was nice to see them free of that murderous glint. And for  _ Anti  _ of all people to be resting so peacefully on another ego’s lap…

“...Henrik. We weren’t expecting you. I suppose it’s fine though. Come sit down. Slowly. Close the door. You’ll overwhelm him if you leave it open.” Or was it because Anti might make a break for it? He didn’t seem capable of much in the way of independent thought, but even he must have some instinct. Judging by the horrific scars that littered his skin, Anti should have enough of an instinct to know to run away from Marvin. The scars themselves were only really visible because the magician had chosen him revealing clothes (he was clearly freezing in them, but he didn’t dare shudder, not while there were still hands in his hair), and some were even painted with shining gold and silver, highlighting them against his dull green color.

Marvin had done this. Marvin had hurt  _ Anti. _

“Isn’t it so much better like this? It’s so relaxed, and it never bites anymore.”

“He’s...different. Not like Anti at all.” It? Like Anti was some piece of furniture.

“That’s the point. I trained it. Taught it not to snap anymore. Sean might miss having his villain, but I think this works better. Do you like what I’ve done?” When Henrik dared meet the other’s eyes, he saw a deep darkness that should only be in the eyes of a real villain. What he had thought Anti had. 

Henrik could only shake his head.


End file.
